


Tap Out

by formalizing



Series: Tumblr Writing [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/pseuds/formalizing
Summary: “C’mon, Sam, give it up.”





	Tap Out

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on Tumblr]().

Sam tries--really, he does. But Dean doesn't believe in pulling his punches, takes him to the ground sore and sweaty every time.

“ _Say it_.”

They’re both out of breath, but Sam’s the one with his face in the dirt and hands pinned behind his back, barely able to squirm with his legs trapped in the vice-tight grip of Dean’s thighs.

Dean’s time on the wrestling team gives him an advantage that Sam calls unfair but dad calls ‘good practice’.

Sam struggles anyway, bucks his hips to make Dean lose his balance enough that Sam can get one arm free, throws an elbow to his brother’s gut with a grin at Dean’s growled curse as it connects. If he wasn’t already so worn down, he might have been able to roll out of the hold and get back on his feet. But Dean’s been making Sam use his reach, overextend himself, and he’s too tired to get his heavy limbs to cooperate.

Dean grabs his wrists before Sam has the chance to do more than think about escaping, re-secures them high enough to make Sam wince as payback for the elbow.

“C’mon, Sam, give it up.”

His arms feel like they’re on fire and his legs are going to have more bruises that his gym teacher will raise an eyebrow at, but the absolute worst of it all is that his dick is hard enough to pound nails where it’s trapped beneath him.

“Okay, you win!”

“ _And?_ ” Dean prompts. “Gotta say the magic words if y’wanna tap out.”

Sam doesn’t say it right away, but when Dean pulls his hands impossibly higher, tightens the grip of his thighs to drive Sam more firmly into the dirt, he gives in with gritted teeth and mutters, “And I’m your _bitch_.”

“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dean says with a quick, smug slap to Sam’s ass as he releases his arms and rolls off of him. “Now lemme take a look at that cheek. You show up with another shiner and the principal’s gonna send someone out for a ‘home check’.”

He reaches out to turn him around by the shoulder, and Sam can feel his face going red as he dodges his hand and shakily gets to his feet as he stammers, “N-no! I’m fine, it’s fine. You go ahead. M’just gonna, uh--”

Dean narrows his eyes, looks Sam up and down quickly like he needs to confirm he didn’t actually break anything.

“What’s your--”

He stops mid-sentence when he catches sight of the white-knuckled grip Sam’s got on the hem of his shirt, lips curving into a knowing smirk as he watches Sam subtly trying to keep it down over his crotch.

“Fixin’ to start a fire with that wood you’re sportin’ there, Sam?”

“Bite me,” Sam snaps, cheeks flushing as he glares down at the obvious bulge, then over at Dean for good measure before stalking off towards the trailer they’re calling home this month.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be a pissy little bitch about it,” Dean says, following close behind and stopping him with a hand on his shoulder because of course he can’t just leave it alone. “It’s just the adrenaline--it happens to a lot of guys.”

Sam scoffs and looks pointedly at the distinct lack of an embarrassing situation in Dean’s pants.

“What, your feelings hurt ‘cause you didn’t get the full salute?” Sam rolls his eyes and Dean grins. “Sorry, princess, some of us know to take care of business beforehand.”

Imagining Dean jerking off in the tiny bedroom they share _really_ isn’t helping.

He brushes Dean off with a muttered “whatever,” intent on getting inside for a cold shower that’ll probably still end with him biting his own arm to keep quiet as he comes.

It’s almost too easy for Dean to surprise him with a hand around his already aching wrist, one sharp tug and a spin slamming him up against the siding with enough force to knock the breath out of him. Before he can get it back, he’s quickly and efficiently held in place with the hard line of Dean’s body behind him.

“If it makes y’feel any better,” Sam goes very still at the new heat and slow uncertainty in his voice, the feeling of Dean’s breath on his neck. “Got me at least half-hard when I finally took you down.”

The hand that isn’t holding Sam’s own against the trailer slow-slides around his hip--slow enough that Sam could stop him anytime if he could think past the cool, rough tips of Dean’s fingers dragging against his skin--creeping forward until Dean’s palm is flat against Sam’s suddenly butterfly-filled stomach under his shirt, fingers spread out and just barely teasing at his waistband.

“Liked the way you were squirmin’,” he says, right against Sam’s ear as he presses his chin to Sam’s shoulder and looks down his body to where Sam’s cock is so shamelessly tenting his sweats. “You, uh… wanna hand with that?”

If Sam had any sense, he’d say no. He’d put as much distance between them as possible, lock himself in the bathroom and get himself off to the memory of this moment--Dean’s hands, the heat of his body everywhere they’re touching, that bedroom voice Sam’s only ever heard through thin walls--until he can’t get it up anymore. By tomorrow, they’d both be pretending this never happened and everything would be back to normal.

But instead he holds his breath and nods his head because he doesn’t trust himself to actually speak, lets his brother slip a hand into his pants and tries not to completely lose it the second Dean’s fingers so much as brush against his cock

When Sam gasps and jerks his hips, ass pressing back where Dean’s flush against him, Dean’s hand retreats to grip Sam’s hip and squeezes almost hard enough to hurt as he holds him still.

“ _Easy_ ,” he soothes, deliberately backing off to run his palm up and down Sam’s thigh instead. He just barely nudges his thumb into the crease between Sam’s thigh and where his dick is hard and aching, sending over-eager tremors from Sam’s hairline to the soles of his feet. “You gonna make it if I put my fingers back on that hair trigger?”

Sam licks his lips and rolls his hips again, pushing back purposefully this time, humming when he can vaguely feel the firming outline of Dean’s dick. He’s definitely not soft anymore.

“How about you?” he says, trying to sound more sure than he is. “That just the adrenaline, too?”

“Nah,” Dean’s breath is hot behind his ear and his hand feels even hotter as it moves up to press just above Sam’s cock, pulling him back as he nudges his hips forward to press himself more fully against Sam’s ass. Dean groans, that deep, achy sound Sam’s listened in on often enough late at night to be familiar with. “That’s all for you.”

Fingers finally close around Sam’s cock where it’s desperate for attention between his legs and he’d probably moan like one of Dean’s one-night girls if he could even _breathe_.

“Just like this is all for me, ain’t it, Sammy?”

He thinks he nods, knows he makes an embarrassingly loud whine as Dean gives one loose-fisted pump up to the head of his cock, rubs his thumb over the slit where Sam’s gone wet for him, throbbing and leaking and definitely not going to last.

Dean laces their fingers together against the side of the trailer, holds him tight in place as he squirms under even the slightest twitch of Dean’s hand.

Sam’s right on the edge way too soon, and he’d be embarrassed about it if this--pinned to the wall, filthy, bruised, and panting with his big brother’s hand in his pants--wasn’t the single hottest thing that’s _ever_ fucking happened to him.

“Dean, m’gonna--” Sam warns, feels Dean ‘mmm’ in response against his neck.

“You wanna tap out, y’know what you gotta say,” he growls, low and sex-rough, and Sam can feel a shiver run down his spine.

Dean adjusts his grip and gives him a few long, firm strokes, takes him whimpering to the edge with murmurs of ‘that’s it, baby, c’mon, give it up…’

He opens his mouth to say the words Dean wants to hear, but what spills out instead is just, “I’m _yours_ ,” sounding maybe too honest, too much like a promise.

Dean puts teeth to Sam’s neck and grinds against him in response, like he’s imaging burying himself deep inside and making good on that promise, like he actually might one day, and that’s all it takes to have Sam gasping as he comes, head already spinning with hopes of ending up face-down next time, too.


End file.
